


Heaven on Earth

by Pudding_chan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Anxiety, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-War, Slow Build, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pudding_chan/pseuds/Pudding_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin is a mage on the run who is persecuted for his ability to use magic. To save the life of himself and what's left of his family, he has to marry into the Kirschtine family. But it's really hard to pretend to love your spouse when they hate you and their freckled body guard is so much more attractive.</p><p>***NOT a Jearmin fic! There is no romance between Armin or Jean, not one-sided, not dual sided, not even thought about being as a possibility.<br/>*NO major character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Armin wasn't a mistake, his mother just made a mistake.

"Hey! Hello? You there! I've been looking all _over_ for you." Ophelia grabbed the arm of a complete stranger and forced him to turn around.

The 'stranger', who'd been in the middle of a conversation, was confused, "I'm sorry, who are you? Do I know you?"

"You should introduce yourself to me first, I've been waiting half my life to meet you. I'm Ophelia, your wife, and you are?" She let go of the stranger's arm and held her hand out to shake his hand.

"A-alright, _Ophelia_ , I'm Christopher.... I think you must have the wrong person. I don't _have_ a wife, and did you just say you were _waiting to meet me_? Why were you waiting for me, I-I have no idea who you--" Chris looked around in bewilderment, thinking that perhaps this was some kind of joke being played on him.

Ophelia took her hand away and rubbed the sides of her head before releasing a sigh, perking straight back up again. "Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry. What I meant to say was 'Hello there future husband of mine, you're looking dashing today!' but I got over-excited."

Chris couldn't believe what he was hearing from this woman. "Future husband? Uh huh.... And you know this because?" He didn't really believe what Ophelia was saying, assuming now that it was just this random girl's way of flirting with him. An obscure set of pick-up lines. Who wouldn't have their attention grabbed by that kind of behavior, especially from a pretty young woman?

Ophelia looked into Chris's eyes and smiled, "I'm psychic!" Ophelia pointed to her head briefly before holding Chris's left hand in both of hers, "And we're going to have a baby- that can use magic! Isn't that great?"

Chris was stunned in silence, with Ophelia staring at him dreamily in anticipation for his response. Minutes passed with not even Chris's two former conversation partners uttering a word. Until Chris came to some kind of conclusion in his mind about the possibilities of what he was hearing. "...Okay, I guess?"

___

A year had passed since then.

  
Ophelia was sitting down at a table writing a letter when she turned to continue speaking with her closest friend, "I told you I'd be getting married when I was only 19, I was right!"

"Well," Her friend sighed as she began to put the now clean dishes away, "I guess you were but, does that really make you psychic? I know a lot of people in your family are psychic, but it was just one dream that you had. Getting married at your age isn't unheard of you know."

This was exciting news for Ophelia, for people to think her one and only psychic vision was just a fluke when it was already playing out so well was borderline insulting. Ophelia shook her head and continued writing, "Just wait until I have my son, Carla, then when you have your five kids and they all go on a play date together, you'll see!"

Carla nearly dropped a plate as she turned around and gasped, "Five?! You didn't really see _five_ kids of mine in your dream did you?"

Ophelia made an exaggerated sigh, "Oh I dunno, if my dream's really just a fluke, I guess it doesn't matter what I saw, right?" This made Carla flustered as she put the plate down that she nearly dropped.

"You can't say that kind of stuff as a joke if you want me to take you seriously! Tell me, was it really five? Did you see _any_ kids of mine in your dream?" Carla walked over to the table to look down at what Ophelia was writing.

Ophelia slapped her hands down on the paper to keep Carla from seeing what she was writing. "When I get done with all these invitations, Carla, I'll give you a little hint, but that's it. Wouldn't want to mess up your future by listening to a psychic ramble on, right?" She then smiled knowingly and shooed Carla away. "Go on, you do what you have to do and I'll do what I have to do."

___

Months had passed, and Ophelia had been both married and past her twentieth birthday. She was concerned and confused, and for the first time she had the ever so slight doubt in her mind that she was wrong.

"I don't understand..." Ophelia tried not to look too disappointed as she looked into her teacup. She was sitting at home and had invited Carla over for dinner to talk. Carla was pregnant, but Ophelia wasn't. "I'm supposed to have my son _before_ you have yours. I was supposed to get pregnant over a month ago."

Carla looked behind her to make sure no one else was in the room, before leaning across the small table to whisper, "Maybe Chris is... well, maybe he's not very, you know?" She had meant it in a purely innocent, joking manner. But Ophelia was quite serious about the situation.

"No no, I felt it- Chris is my husband, he's going to be the father of our son. I just don't understand why it hasn't happened yet. He's supposed to be born later this year. I'm happy for you but maybe..." Ophelia stopped before she had said something too cruel. It might as well have been a sin among women to suggest the unthinkable about a pregnancy. After all, Ophelia hadn't foreseen that kind of tragedy in her dream.

___

The day Armin was supposed to be born was only a day away.

Chris was trying to talk his wife down about the pregnancy. It was only seven months since Ophelia was expecting, yet she insisted that she would have their son sooner rather than in the next year.

"Aren't you supposed to wait nine months? Ten? I know you think you know everything but you don't. And that's fine! No one's going to say you're not really psychic if you're wrong about this one little thing." Chris was tired and would rather be asleep, but Ophelia refused to settle down from how excited she was.

She was convinced that she only mildly misunderstood her dream. She saw their son being born in autumn and must have falsely assumed his conception was ten months before that. Clearly, in her mind, it just meant their son would be born earlier than that. It was the only explanation that made sense to her now.

"He'll be able to use _magic_ and you're doubting when he's going to be born? I was right about us getting married, why would I be wrong about when our son is born? Yes it'll be early, but it'll be fine! Let's go see a doctor, sweetie, you'll understand!" Ophelia practically shouted with happiness.

"Ophelia... you went to see a doctor already, we've been through this already so can you, just, relax?" Chris would have continued if he were more awake and his wife wasn't glaring at him.

"Christopher. Arlert. Listen to me. I want to see a doctor that specializes with _magic using_ children, not a useless normal people doctor. Do you not care at all about that part? And I'm not afraid of people thinking I'm wrong! I'm right- I know I am. You're just not listening to me."

Repeating the phrase "Happy wife, happy life" in his head, Christopher finally got out of bed, "Alright. Okay. I'm sorry, you win, let's go already."

Ophelia took a deep breath and crossed her arms, "This isn't a _game_ I'm playing with you, I don't want you doubting me like this anymore."

___

Whether it was a miracle or a horrible mistake, Armin was right on time.

To have a baby so early would make most mothers cry, or at the least worry and panic that their child wouldn't survive long. Armin was so _small_ and helpless, and they were thousands of miles away from anywhere with technology that would have been able to keep him safe and healthy. Everyone was concerned for Armin's safety, from family, to friends and neighbors. Even the doctor's were prepared for the worst despite the reassuring words they tried to give. But not Armin's mother.

"He's fine, a little on the small side, but fine. It's been a week already and _nothing_ bad's happening, you're over reacting. I was right- I _told you_ I was right." Ophelia whispered to Chris as they both watched their son sleep.

Chris had barely gotten any sleep since Armin was born, fearing that his son would die while he wasn't around. Not that Chris wanted to see his only child die in front of his eyes, he just wanted to spend as much time with him as possible before what he thought he knew was the inevitable.

Ophelia understood why her husband and everyone around her was so worried, but she knew better. "If he couldn't use magic I'd be worried too, but he can, so it's fine."

There was no difference to Chris. If their son couldn't use magic, then he was going to die very soon. If their son _could_... he would live and die too soon anyway. Chris hoped and prayed every night that his wife was wrong, as horrible as it sounded. Wishing his first son would die as a baby? He might as well be damning himself to Hell already.

___

Three months had passed since Armin was born. He was still alive.

This was when Chris finally gave in, and trusted that their son wouldn't die from being born too early. This was when Chris would allow Ophelia to actually start calling their son by name. Beforehand, he didn't want to get attached to a name when he thought death was going to take their son away before he got a chance to live.

"Did we ever agree on naming him Armin? I remember we talked about names before but...." Chris wanted a daughter, but Ophelia had always insisted they would have a son. But he couldn't ever remember hearing her say that they'd name him Armin.

Ophelia sighed and leaned back in her rocking chair, "It's a family name, why are you upset? Is it because we didn't have a girl? Or because Armin looks nothing like you? Aside from the cute nose. Maybe the eyes too, but we'll figure that out further down the line."

Chris laughed, "Doesn't look like me?! He's a baby, and babies all look the same. He doesn't look like me _or_ you, sweetie. But... I don't really care anymore that we didn't have a daughter, and I don't care whether he looks like you or me or anyone else. I just want him- I want Armin to be healthy. That's all."

"And happy, right?" Ophelia chimed in, playing with what little hair Armin currently had. "You can't have one without the other. Without both, what's the point?"

___

Ophelia had been right about her son being born before her best friend, Carla, had hers. Though this wasn't the way she expected it to be.

Spring had just started, and a full eleven months had gone by from the start to finish of Carla's own pregnancy. A month _late_. Of course it wasn't nearly as scary as having a child months early, it was definitely odd.

Immediately, Ophelia set up plenty of "play dates" with her own son and Carla's. These "play dates" consisted of nothing more than one mother watching both children and getting stressed out; There was no "fun" to be had.

"What are friends for if not to share all of the stress of being a mother? I thought things would be easier though." Ophelia had just come back with Carla's son from one of the many play dates and was invited to have some tea and chat before she went back home.

Carla hadn't been exhausted all day from taking care of a child, and could only smile smugly as she leaned on her hand, "Really? I guess you couldn't see _all_ the future."

Ophelia, who certainly _was_ exhausted, wasn't a fan of the comment. "No one can see the whole future. Just be happy that I know Armin and Eren will be good friends when they get older. I can't see everything, but I'm never wrong about what I do see."

___

The summer after Armin's third birthday, Chris came to a heart stopping scene.

The kitchen table was on fire, and Armin was laughing while hiding behind his father's legs. Chris immediately took his son out of the house and instantly went back in to try to stop the fire from getting any bigger. But to his surprise, there was no fire anymore. There was no smoke either. Not even the smell of burnt cedar was in the air any longer.

Chris felt the table with his own two hands, sliding them across the surface to feel for any kind of heat, but there was none. He went back outside again to reassure Armin that everything was okay again, and they went back into the house again.

The kitchen table was on fire, and Armin had clasped his hands together in joy while he started to giggle, "Yay! Yay! Look at it!" Armin ran towards the kitchen but tripped and fell to the floor. The fire went out.

Chris knew then, that the magically vanishing fire was Armin's fault. His knees felt weak, and his legs gave out. He collapsed to the floor and started to hyperventilate. He could feel his eyes getting hot and wet, and before he knew it he was crying.

Armin had no idea why his father was suddenly crying. He stood up and turned around to face his father, "Daddy...?" Was he in pain? Was he scared? Did something bad happen? Did _Armin_ do something wrong?

There were no words, not way for Chris to explain to his son what was so terrible it made his heart feel like it was being crushed. So instead he just pulled his son into a hug, "It'll be fine, Armin, don't worry. It's going... it's going to be o-okay. You'll be... everything's okay."

Chris was conflicted. Would he rather his son have died years ago, when he was born so unnaturally soon and so fragile? Was this really the better option? He knew what his wife would say. He knew it and he almost resented the thought. He loved his family, so why did it have to be this way? Why was his wife _right_ about something like this? Why couldn't she be wrong? Chris would give anything at this point for her to be wrong. Anything.

He knew he had to be strong, otherwise nothing would be okay, and he couldn't end up being a liar to his son now could he? After Chris had composed himself, he stood up and looked down at Armin, "Don't uh, don't do that again, okay Armin? Fire's not a good thing. Don't do that, please don't. Promise me you'll never do that again, okay?" It took all the mental strength Chris had to stop himself from breaking into tears again.

Armin, who was still slightly confused, nodded with a smile, "Okay!"

With that, Chris took his son's hand and they went to Armin's room. "You should take a nap now, alright? Mommy's still out visiting her, her um, friends, so we'll just wait a little while for her to come back."

Armin didn't like naps. Armin liked to play. But if playing was so bad it made his father cry, then maybe he should listen just this once.

 

Chris waited hours sitting on a chair outside Armin's bedroom door for his wife to come back home. He had to talk to her about this as soon as possible, but he didn't want to make a scene by running all the way over to Carla Jaeger's house and ruining an important party by screaming at his wife like a lunatic.

But after the sun had finally set, Ophelia came home. She was excited and had such a big smile on her face, completely oblivious to what was in store for her.

Getting up slowly so that he wouldn't wake Armin, Chris then walked into the open living room of the house to face his wife. Ophelia immediately knew something was wrong, and the happiness drained from her face, the light gone from her green eyes. It was like she wasn't the same person anymore when she was so full of confusion and vague fear.

"Chris...? Sweetie, what's wrong? Did something happen while I was away?" She gently slid her bag off her shoulder and set it onto the floor before walking forward. The only light was that of the fireplace, and she wondered why Chris hadn't lit any of the lamps when it had been getting dark for at least an hour.

Chris explained himself, "I didn't think you were right, you know. About Armin. He... used magic earlier today. He was just playing, I know that now. But he set the kitchen table on fire, _twice_ , and when it went away it was like the fires were never there to begin with. I hoped you'd be wrong about something, just once."

Ophelia tilted her head to the side, the slight fear in her vanishing instantly, "He's using magic? See! I can't believe you didn't believe I was right _again_ , honestly I thought it was obvious when Armin survived past his first year. This is--"

"This is **horrible**! I _love_ you Ophelia and I love our son but _this_? This is awful. How long, hm? How long do you think he has? Twenty years? Thirty? How many years is it going to take for all that magic to kill him before he gets to really _live_? He... He'll never have a family! Who's going to want to marry someone that's got a fatal illness that can never be cured?!" Chris was keeping his voice level, the last thing he wanted to do was wake Armin up and have to explain to him what the fighting was about.

Ophelia blinked and shook her head, backing away as if she was being threatened, "Wh-what? An illness? Yes our son's not going to live as long as us but, he can use magic. Don't you have any idea how amazing that is? He's going to get so much respect, all people who use magic do. You act as if he's unhealthy!"

"Respect?! Magic? What's the _point_ of either of those things?! The world doesn't need to respect him, he doesn't need to use magic! I wanted him to live a happy, healthy, _long_ life! Not this! I never wanted this for our son! Armin never asked for this either!" Chris couldn't help but feel the need to cry again. This was hurting him so much, couldn't his wife see that?

Maybe it was anger, or disappointment, or something similar that Ophelia was currently feeling. Was her husband just being selfish, or was he just in some way envious that both his wife and child were special?

Ophelia could feel her throat tighten and her chest grow heavier, "I told you when we first met, I've told you so many times, that our son would be able to use magic. And you... you _doubted_ me. Instead of trusting me and respecting the reality of things, you didn't believe me."

This wasn't how things were supposed to be, Ophelia never saw her husband arguing with her in this way.

Chris only sat down on the living room sofa and buried his face in his hands in a poor attempt to hide his tears and cease his oncoming sobs, "I don't want Armin to die so _soon_."

Ophelia always knew that her husband was an emotionally weak person, no matter how strong he tried to be. Weak, and naive. Did he really think he'd have a normal child, after all the ways that Ophelia's one vision had been right?

She would never say it, but Ophelia always thought that people like her husband who were raised with so little knowledge about the other half of the way the world works were selfish and disrespectful to the way "the unknown" worked. Maybe they were just envious that not everyone had special powers, or were scared of them. Ophelia didn't really know or care. Not now.

Now, she knew she had to be gentle. She had to slowly make Chris understand that nothing about their situation was wrong, that there was no reason for anyone to be so afraid of the cost of being able to use magic.

"Do you really think that Armin won't live a good life just because he's going to die sooner than you or me?" Ophelia asked as she walked over to sit next to Chris. "There's more to life than living to sixty, or getting married, or having kids and taking care of any kids they have down the line. You don't have to live that kind of life to like a full, happy, satisfying life."

Ophelia pulled Chris's hands away from his face and kissed him on the cheek, "I was right before, I've always been right, so you have to know that I'm right when I say that Armin's going to live a happy life, he'll always have a family, and even if he does die before us? He'll still be happy."

As comforting as she tried to be, it wasn't enough for Chris. It was a nice idea, that Armin would be satisfied with a short life, but it couldn't be true. It would be something forced into his head growing up and then he'd accept it maybe. But would it really be what Armin wants? Though thinking it over, Chris thought that maybe it wouldn't make a difference regardless of how Armin was raised, and that _everyone_ must want a long life.

Even if Chris couldn't bring himself to hate his wife, he sure could hate her psychic ability. But from that point on, Chris knew he wouldn't be able to look at Armin the same way again. He would try to be strong, for his family, but he could only do so much to ignore what he knew was coming.

Chris had decided in his head that yes, it would have been much better if Armin had died within those first few months of being born. And Chris knew he would pay for believing that some day, but he didn't care. Armin was going to die too soon, and it was all because of Ophelia's vision. It was Ophelia's fault. All her fault.  
___

As Armin got older, his ability to use magic became much more obvious. 

  
This was the third time that Chris had rushed over to the nearest doctor with his now four year old son for one specific reason; Armin kept breaking his bones. First it was a leg, then it was his right arm, this time it's his left arm.

Armin was very, _very_ good at getting into trouble. The first time he broke a bone, he cried for a good fifty minutes before his bone had healed itself. And each time Armin broke a bone, Chris would take him to the doctor even after Armin had stopped crying. And every time, the doctor would just laugh it off, pat Armin on the head, and tell Chris not to worry about something as small as broken bones.

Chris didn't understand how in this part of the world, people would just brush off a child getting broken limbs just because that child could use magic. Sure, magic could heal all wounds, but that doesn't make it okay. Not in Chris's eyes.

When Ophelia came home from the market, Chris confronted her immediately, "Sweetie I know, I know you've said this already just like everyone else I talk to but are you _sure_ it's okay that Armin keeps _breaking every bone in his body_?"

Ophelia could only laugh as she set her baskets down, "Chris, oh come on relax. I'm more than sure it's fine. This is what happens with kids who can use magic, they get a little careless sometimes. It's fine though, it's like getting a scrape on the knee to them. I guess. Did Armin break another bone today? What is that, the ninth time?"

Chris had turned to go grab Armin, until he heard what his wife had said. He thought his stomach was going to curl up and never uncurl. "Ninth? _Ninth_? You're saying that he's broken bones while I wasn't watching him? And you didn't tell me?!" He was less angry and more shocked and worried.

"Well of course I didn't tell you. You always get so worried when you tell me that Armin broke a bone while you were with him. So I thought I should just keep it a little secret when Armin breaks his bones and eats rocks and stuff, so that you don't get stressed out." Ophelia explained with a smile, picking up her baskets again and walking into the kitchen to start putting the food away.

Chris appreciated the thought, but he couldn't stand not knowing what was going on with Armin. He wondered how his wife could be so casual about keeping those kinds of secrets from him about their son. It wasn't like when Armin got paper cuts on his fingers when reading, this was serious. Wasn't it?

___

It only took years of social reinforcement and personal guilt for Chris to accept Armin's powers and what they meant. 

He felt guilty for distancing himself the way he did from his son, and he thought it was high time to start fixing things. Chris could tell that Armin had acted differently around him, like he knew that his father didn't want to look at him. Maybe Ophelia had told Armin just that, but Chris tried not to think about it more than he had to.

Chris's great idea for rebuilding his relationship with his family was simple, and he pitched it to his wife after Armin had gone to bed for the night. "Ophelia, why don't we throw a birthday part for Armin's sixth birthday?"

"A what? A birthday... party?" Ophelia was unfamiliar with the concept, as most people were in her country. But regardless, Ophelia was still intrigued by the idea.

Seeing Ophelia's confusion, Chris thought for a moment to think of how to explain the purpose of a birthday party. Thinking on it, he realized what a strange kind of tradition it was in many parts of the world. "Well on the birthday of every year, you invite friends and family to a party to celebrate the day you're born. And you usually have a cake, and everyone brings a present and sings to you..."

Ophelia stopped sweeping for a second, "So people gather around and shower someone with presents and cheers just to celebrate the fact that some years ago on that exact day, you were born? Sounds pretty selfish and self-glorifying if you ask me."

Chris's mouth was agape, and he was about to protest and try to re-explain, but Ophelia continued, "That sounds great! Who doesn't love an excuse to spoil their child and have people appreciate the fact that they even exist?"

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes, knowing that his wife was quite serious. Ophelia loved to spoil Armin so much, and she already loved how much respect and attention Armin got from people just because they knew he could use magic. A birthday party really was something Ophelia could appreciate.

___

It was supposed to be a day of celebration, but that wasn't what it ended up being for Armin. 

  
Armin knew that he must be psychic like his mother. After all, most of his family on his mother's side had psychic abilities. But he never thought he was any good, since he hadn't gotten any visions of any kind. Until he woke up the morning of his birthday from a horrible nightmare.

There was a strange feeling in Armin's whole body, and he knew that it couldn't have been just a dream. But he couldn't remember anything from it, or describe what it was. He couldn't tell his parents about this, his dad would be upset, and maybe his mother would be disappointed.

The rest of Armin's morning was filled with the kind of unease that no child should have ever had to feel. His parents thought he was nervous about the birthday party, and he let them believe it as he tried his best to believe it too. 

  
Plenty of people came to the party, though none of them understood what the true reason was for a birthday party, it was a party for a magical child. That was enough for most of those who were invited. But luckily for Armin, Eren definitely came. At least maybe he'd be able to forget his awful dream if he just spent time with his friends instead.

Armin still felt nervous being in his own home and decided to make up whatever excuses possible to get out. "Mommy?" Armin wasn't the type to be antsy, but he could barely hide the urgency in his voice.

Ophelia bent down to meet Armin at eye level, "Oh? What is it? Already want your cake?" She was oblivious to the real reason why her son sounded so impatient.

But Armin didn't care about his cake, or any gifts. "Umm, can I go play outside? Like right now? There's uhm, lots of people in here. I want to go outside." Armin played with his hair without thinking about it. His parents knew that Armin only did things like that when he was nervous, or lying.

Regardless of what it might mean, Ophelia couldn't say no to her son. If something was making him uncomfortable and he wanted to go outside, why stop him? "Well of course, honey! Don't go too far though, I want you to be able to hear when we call you back in to have your cake, okay?"

Armin nodded and made a dash to the back door, leaving it open for a moment so he could gesture to Eren to come with him. He didn't want to be outside alone, obviously.

When they were far enough away from the house, Eren started to complain, "You know I asked if I could have a birthday party for _my_ birthday, and my daddy and? He said no! It's not fair, I'm going to be six soon _too_."

"Why?" Armin didn't quite understand the point of the birthday party either, but that made all the more reason for questioning why his best friend wasn't getting one too.

Eren crossed his arms and huffed, "'Cause I don't have magic powers. So, no one will want to come. And... I don't have any friends that aren't you."

That was the first time Armin really, truly understood the difference between the way people treated those who could use magic, and those who couldn't. It made Armin wonder, was the reason he had so many friends, because he could use magic?

So many people that Armin didn't even know had shown up to his party, and everyone always wanted Armin to play with their own kids. 

 

Maybe though, Eren was just crude and occasionally violent towards other kids who picked on either him or harassed Armin to use his magic for something. Maybe that's why he didn't have many friends. Armin's parents always said he was special, but the way Eren said "magic powers" made Armin think that maybe "special" wasn't a good thing.

Armin didn't want Eren to feel left out, though. "You can have _extra_ cake! And I'll make sure you get cake for your birthday, too!" He couldn't give Eren magic powers, but he could give him cake. Same difference.

It had rained earlier, and it was foggy and wet out, which was perfect for what Eren had in mind. He bent down and picked up some of the damp dirt and mud combination from the ground, and threw it directly at Armin.

Armin knew that both of their parents would be furious with them if they came back covered in mud when there was a party going on, but Armin didn't care. With a huge smile, he kicked off his shoes and got on his knees to collect his own handful of mud.

Eren had already broken into a run by the time Armin had stood back up, but that just meant that the chase was on.

The further they ran away from Armin's backyard, the more hills they ran into. The forest was still far off, so Armin knew that Eren couldn't be hiding there. He must have been behind a rock or a hill.

Not that Armin knew he was doing it, but with the use of magic he would never get as tired as Eren eventually would. It wasn't so much of a chase, as much of a test of time. Would Armin get bored first, or would Eren get tried first? That would decide when their fun ended.

Armin laughed as he looked around frantically, "Eren! Come out from where you're hiiiding!" He was running around so much, his pile of mud and grass and nearly dripped out of his hands completely.

When Armin got down to get more, he felt a cold, wet slap on his neck. Eren had gotten him from behind. Armin got up and turned around, only to see Eren laughing, running away and up a hill, straight out of Armin's sight.

That didn't stop Armin though. He wiped as much mud off his back as possible, held his new scoop of mud tightly, and gave chase once again. "You better not have shoes on Eren, that's cheating!" If you weren't slipping around in the mud, what was the fun in this messy type of tag?

"Okay, okay, fine!" Eren stumbled to get his shoes off as quickly as possible, but couldn't dodge the mud flying at him. Armin had thrown it too short and it only ended up hitting Eren's knee, but a hit was a hit.

Eren quickly grabbed more mud and ran towards Armin. Knowing that he couldn't retaliate fast enough, Armin ran to the right and up a hill to try and avoid getting tackled to the ground with mud.

But Eren did the smart thing, and instead of chasing Armin all the way up the hill, he threw the mud instead. Armin felt it hit his back and, tripping over a rock, fell down the hill.

With a thundering, loud collision, Armin gasped as he felt everything in his body seize, and then suddenly nothing at all. He coughed once, then a few times more, blood practically jumping out of his mouth.

When Eren was at the top of the hill, his smile disappeared and he looked down in horror. Armin's head was laying in some rocks, blood everywhere, his left arm twisted in an unnatural, painful looking way.

Armin could barely see his friend at the top of the hill, but he heard the scream, he heard his best friend start crying, and he noticed as Eren started to run away and shout for his parents over and over again.

Armin was terrified, dazed, and confused. He was all alone.

___

Ophelia would soon realize her mistake.

It had only been a few months since Armin's tragic sixth birthday. He had survived, of course. When Ophelia and a group of plenty other adults had come to see what happened to Armin, Armin was covered in blood and standing at the bottom of the hill he'd fallen down, looking at the blood stained pile of rocks. There wasn't a scratch on him.

Chris was the one who had been most worried, and was the one to break down into tears and hold Armin close while apologizing over and over again. Ophelia never knew that the reason why he had reacted in such a way was because of Chris's dark wish that Armin had died a long time ago.

Undoubtedly, Chris regretted his wish since then and appreciated Armin's ability to use magic more then than he ever thought he would. Maybe he should have waited to have faith in his wife's vision, maybe he should have smothered Armin in his crib the first week Armin was alive.

Ophelia had woken up in the middle of the night, almost in a trance, and walked out of her bedroom and into Armin's. Armin was awake, a cup of water by his side, a book on his bed, and with nothing but the moonlight to allow him to read it.

Armin turned to look at his mother, "Oh! Hi mommy, I'm sorry, did I wake you up? I just wanted water...." But before Armin could say more, Ophelia shook her head and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her slowly.

Ophelia stood in the hallway, back up against her son's door, staring at the ground for what felt like an eternity to her. Then, like being awoken from a deep sleep, she ran back into her bedroom and started to shake her husband awake.

"Chris! Christopher! Wake up! _Wake up!_ I... I was...! I was _wrong_! Please you need to get up _now_ and you have to _listen to me_!" Her breathing was uneven, and she was sweating. It was like the world was falling apart for her, and her alone.

Groggy and confused, Chris sat up and looked around, only barely able to realize that it was night time. "Sw-sweetie? What?" He yawned and tried to blink the tiredness away. "What's uh, what's goin' on? Hm?"

Ophelia, almost viciously, grabbed her husband's face with her hands and made eye contact with him, "Everything... it was all _wrong_. I don't _understand_ I don't kn-know how but _but_ I was, I was all _wrong_ a-and we need to do something about this _now_!"

Chris was wide awake now, pulling Ophelia's hands away from his face, "What were you wrong about? Tell me what's going on." He knew that very few things worried his wife, and that it had to be something absolutely tragic for her to be like this.

Almost in tears, Ophelia shakily brought her hands to her chest before continuing, "I-I had another v-v-vision and- and I...! Armin's _not safe_! We ne-need help! _He_ needs hel-help!" She only got shakier and less coherent as she went on.

"Wrong?" Chris tilted his head to the side, "Sweetie, you've never been wrong before. So, maybe you're wrong now. Maybe whatever 'vision' you had was just a bad dream--" Ophelia slapped him.

Her anger had somewhat calmed her for the moment, "You **aren't listening to me**! That makes, _no_ sense! If I'm never wrong, how can _both_ things be true? Armin's in _danger_! We need to, to write a letter." She reverted back to her nervous shaking, and Chris understood that, wrong or right, he had to do whatever Ophelia said for the time being.

Chris got out of bed and exited the room with his wife, heading for their small study. He lit a lamp, and sat down at the desk. Pulling out a pen and paper, he turned to his wife, "You're shaken up, I'll be better at writing this. What do you want it to say?"

Ophelia took deep breaths, trying her best to collect her thoughts. Her son was in danger, they needed help. Whose help would be best? Who did she know? What could she do? Would it matter in the end?

  
___

Two months later, the beginning of the end started.

A young woman, barely out of her teens, arrived at the house with bags. She had traveled a very long way to accept Ophelia and Christopher's urgent request.

Ophelia looked so pleased to see her when she opened the door, "Oh! Thank goodness you're here! I was, getting a little worried when I heard the snow had delayed your first attempt at coming here."

The woman stepped in with her bags and set them down by the front door, "Well it's spring now, no need to worry. It's better that I start when it's warmer, anyway. Where is he?" She looked around the living room, taking in her new work space.

Just then, Armin walked into the living room from the kitchen and stopped in his tracks to silently inspect the stranger in his home. She wasn't as tall as Armin's mother, had brown hair unlike his mother's, and she gave off a completely different vibe than his mother... But her eyes? They looked exactly the same, and that made Armin feel some kind of familiarity with this stranger.

"Why hello there, Armin, right? I've been waiting so long to meet you. I'm going to be your new teacher starting today. My name is Monaca." She walked forward and crouched down, holding her hand out to Armin.

Ophelia smiled and gestured for Armin to shake Monaca's hand, "This is an old friend of mine, like Carla! She's going to help you, alright honey?" Despite the smiles all around the room, Armin felt the same thing he had felt after waking up from his nightmare on his last birthday. It made him sick to his stomach, for some reason unknown to him.

Armin immediately started to cry.

___

For some strange reason, no one saw it coming.

Over a year of studying and training with his new magical tutor, and Armin was much better at sensing and controlling his own magic. He of course, had a ways away to go, but he had enough time. Didn't he?

Chris didn't want Armin to practice magic on this scale, but if it was to protect him, then he wouldn't utter a single complaint. Ophelia was quite happy about this, and it was better than the alternative of sending Armin off to learn magic at a boarding school.

Today, something felt strange to Armin. Monaca had insisted that they go practice magic in the forest, but they had left the house with bags. Bags with things that Armin thought they wouldn't need. Long after they were deep in the woods, the chaos hit.

 

Two seemingly average men arrived at Armin's house in the evening, when both Chris and Ophelia were home. Chris let them in when they asked if there was a psychic living in the home, and he knew that Ophelia was always willing to talk to people about her ability. She loved to brag after all.

Ophelia made them tea, and they sat down, then talked for a good half hour, when the sun began to set. She made a mental note to light the lamps and candles soon, when one of the men continued on their conversation. "So then, psychic abilities are hereditary?"

"For the most part, yes!" Ophelia nodded as she set down her empty cup. "Although I've seen and heard too many times, that psychics with weak power can't pass on their power to their children. My son hasn't come to me about any visions yet, though."

The other man was intrigued, "Is your psychic ability weak?" True or not, Ophelia laughed at the idea. It would have offended her, had the two men not already been ignorant and asking for genuine answers.

"Of course not, my psychic ability is as strong as ever! I didn't have my first vision until I was ten, so I'm confident it's the same for my son." Ophelia got up to begin lighting the lamps and candles.

"That's all we needed to know." When Ophelia heard the way the first man had said that, she was afraid to turn around. She lit the first lamp anyway, looking outside the window in the hopes she would see Monaca and Armin coming back to the house.

She felt something up against the back of her head and froze, then tried to scream. Her mouth was covered and she was pulled backwards. A click was the last thing Ophelia ever heard before her brain was done through with a bullet and her life was put to an end.

Chris had heard the unnatural click and poked his head around the corner of the kitchen archway, only to see his dead wife in the arms of a stranger before the second man aimed and fired. Chris's life too came to an abrupt, worry-felt end.

 

Monaca looked upwards to see what little light was left filtering through the leaves, and sighed. "Get your things packed, Armin. We're going now." Monaca was no psychic, she certainly didn't see things coming. All she did know, was a strange feeling that morning that on that day she had to be as far away from Armin's home town as possible, and that Armin had to be with her.

The dreadful suspicion in her heart told her all she needed to. Armin was ignorant and oblivious to how his world had just been ripped apart, and did what his teacher said, "Are we going home now? It's cold."

"Get used to the cold." It was all Monaca could say before holding her hand out for Armin to hold onto. Life was going to be very cold and cruel for Armin from that moment onward, and Monaca could feel it. She was going to pull him away from what little he didn't realize he had left.

Ophelia's greatest mistake was her blind faith in "the unknown" power that gave her visions, and her whole family was paying the price for it. Though he was still breathing, Armin's life was over.

 

 


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of time has passed since Armin's life was changed for the worst. When his seventeenth birthday rolls around, Armin believes he can finally live a happy, peaceful life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It bugs me that AO3's format makes it so that you can't have a prologue and THEN a first chapter. So get used to "Chapter Number: Chapter Number one less than that". :/ Can't do anything about it.

"Happy birthday, Armin!"

Armin turned over in his bed to see who'd woken him up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking out the window to see what time of day it was. "...It's not morning yet. Eren, where's--" He was cut off when Eren threw a bag at him. __  
  
'A bag of, potatoes?' Armin thought with confusion as he examined the labeling on it. Eren plopped himself down on the bed and nudged Armin, "Are you going to open it or what?"  
  
Too tired to be very skeptical, Armin loosened the rope that kept the bag so tightly closed and turned it upside down before shaking it gently. Something fell out and bounced off the bed and onto the floor.  
  
Eren breathed out of his nose and leaned over to pick the item back up, slapping it down on Armin's lap after he did. "You ruined the surprise but, here, it's another book."  
  
Armin wiped off the dirt on the book's spine, trying to make out the title of it. _'I can't see the writing on here, where did he even_ get _this smelly thing?'_   Armin opened the book and laughed, "It's a book that I can barely read, and it smells like potatoes and dust, but okay, I'll take it."  
  
Eren huffed and got off the bed and crossed his arms, "Well happy birthday. And by the way, it _is_ morning, it's just dark out. Now come help me." With that, Eren grabbed the empty potato sack and stormed out of the room.  
  
Armin set the book on his windowsill, _'I guess I'm not getting to sleep in like I asked.'_   He thought with disappointment, slowly pulling his night shirt off before sliding out of bed. Shivering from the cold, Armin decided against taking off his pants until he was sure he had something warmer to put on immediately.  
  
Digging through his dresser, Armin realized that while he had plenty of shirts, socks, and even a few sweaters, he was short on clean pants _. 'Maybe I should have asked for thicker pants instead of more books?'_ He thought as he rubbed his legs together to keep them warm.  
  
Armin looked back at his bed, remembering the warmth under the covers. _'I could sew my blankets into pants, they're warm enough.'_ He smiled at the idea, as interesting as it was. 'The day anyone in the house learns to sew would be the day Eren could use magic.'

But there was no time to think about that, so Armin picked up a pair of dirtier pants from the small heap of clothes in the back corner of his room and traded his softer, wafer thin pajama pants for slightly warmer but far more scratchy and uncomfortable pants. _'So much warmer, but what's the price?_ ' This particular pair of pants was always itchy, but it was autumn, so it was too cold to complain about it.  
  
Slipping on his favorite, hideous green turtle-neck, Armin went to see what Eren had to wake him up early to help with.  
  
_'What does Eren need help with so badly, anyway?'_ Armin wondered, knowing that it wasn't going to deal with breakfast. Eren's "breakfast" consisted of stale bread. Every, single, morning. At this point, Armin wasn't even sure if Eren knew how to crack an egg, or even cook one. It was always Armin, or Mikasa, who took the time to make a good breakfast when they had the time to spare one.  
  
Armin looked around the farmhouse, and there was no sight of Mikasa anywhere. "Oh, Eren, I was trying to ask you earlier. _Where's_ Mikasa? Doesn't she usually help you in the morning?" There probably wouldn't be any real breakfast today.  
  
Eren's brows furrowed in anger, "Some _asshole_ apparently broke in and stole a whole chicken from us last night, and they broke a window trying to get into the storage shed. So Mikasa's out hunting for something so she can sell it and get us another chicken, and something for the window."  
  
Armin frowned, feeling sympathy for Eren and the loss of one of his chickens. He had named them and everything.  "Aww, which one was it? They only took one? They must have just been desperate for something to eat and didn't want to risk breaking into the house."  
  
"I _wish_ they broke into the house! I would have cut their fingers off or, I dunno, _something_. Oh, and uh, it was Francine." Eren's anger turned to sadness after he explained. He really did care about the chickens, though he was more of a cow person. Armin couldn't imagine what would happen if someone tried to steal one of the cows.  
  
Even though Armin had a hard time remembering all the animals' names, he knew which names meant different things in terms of how attached Eren was to whichever animal he was talking about. _'Aw, and Francine was one of Eren's_ favorites _...'_ Though Armin also knew that Francine was no money maker either, she rarely laid enough eggs to be worth her weight. Not that Armin would ever point that out to Eren.  
  
Eren slipped his shoes on by the front door, "Okay, now come help me clean up some of the mess in the hen house, you can read your book later." Armin didn't like the idea, but he knew it would help Eren cope from losing Francine if someone else was with him.

 

While Eren was finishing up cleaning up broken eggs, Armin tried to bring up a recurring "discussion" he'd had with Eren multiple times before, "You know, Eren, I could.... Maybe you should let me use some magic to make sure no one can break into--"

Eren interrupted him with a strained tone in his voice, "Don't even... don't even _go there_ today, Armin. It's your damn birthday, Francine was stolen, it's cold outside, I don't want to hear it." Any other day than Armin's birthday, and Eren probably would have made a much bigger scene of the whole thing. Maybe.

"These chickens aren't worth your life, you know. They're just stupid birds." Eren sneered, his whole demeanor changing. _'Maybe next year,_ ' Armin thought as he looked down at his shoes to avoid Eren's stare. _'Yeah, next year._ '

"I know you don't feel that way about the chickens, but.... The war's been over for, what? Three years now? No one's going to do anything to me. No one would even know--" Armin stopped talking when he looked up and saw how angry Eren looked. "Never mind. Just forget it." Armin turned around and hurried outside of the hen house.

Armin was in luck, and Eren hadn't immediately followed him. The sun was just beginning to rise, its light shining over the open fields. _'Mikasa won't be back for a while..._ ' Armin thought, disheartened by the realization of what a long, quiet, awkward day it would be on the farm with just Eren.

_'I'll just make breakfast. Oh. Can't do that, Eren's still in the hen house..._ 'Definitely, _definitely_ , no real breakfast for Armin. His birthday wasn't getting off with an amazing start, but Armin had his hopes. After all, it would get better once Mikasa came back.

__

"You need to go get some firewood." Eren demanded immediately as he walked into the house, sweating profusely.  Though it was getting colder, running a small farm without much help was next to back-breaking work, even for someone like Eren.

Armin, who'd been reading at the kitchen table, looked up, "You want _me_ to go get firewood? But... why? Do we really need more? Today? Right now?" It was only mid-day, sure, but even Armin knew it would be tough to find a good amount of firewood before dark if he started now. Especially with how ultimately weak he really was.

Eren closed his eyes and nodded, nearly collapsing on one of the other chairs at the table, "I've got a bunch of stuff to do, Mikasa won't be back until at least night time, and I completely forgot about how we needed more wood since this morning you...."

_'Blaming me for_ your _mistakes? Really Eren?'_ As much as Armin wanted to speak his mind, it was an obviously bad idea. "Okay then why don't I do some of the stuff you need to do, and _you_ go collect firewood?"

Eren leaned forward and stretched across the table, "We both know you can't do any of it, so it's just easier if you go get wood. Can I have your water?" He poked at the cup next to Armin's wrist.

"What? Get up and get your own water, you're the _strong farmer_ , aren't you?" Armin didn't mean for it to come off as harshly as it did, but it had, and there was no going back. Who wouldn't be a little irritated after hearing they have to go out into the woods to get firewood when they could have been doing that literally hours ago?

Of course, Eren wasn't an idiot and knew he had to be the grown up for a little bit. He took a deep breath and retreated back to his side of the table, sitting up in the chair, "Okay, Armin. I'm _sorry_ about this morning. It's your birthday, and I ruined your whole morning, but _please_ can you go get some firewood? You don't even have to fill up the whole wagon, just like half maybe."

_'You're not sorry.... You never are._ 'Armin thought with a sigh, closing his book. As many fights as they'd had about Armin's ability to use magic, Eren's opinion stayed the same. The only real thing Eren was apologizing for was waking Armin up early, and that was it.

"Okay, since you said please." Armin forced a small smile to appease Eren, even though he didn't deserve it very much.

Eren's smile, however, was quite genuine. "And can I have your water?"

No longer pleased or willing to make Eren feel better about being so insensitive, Armin stood up and picked up his cup, "Sure." He muttered, leaning over the table and dumping the contents of his cup all over Eren.

Eren gasped and nearly fell out of his chair, disgusted by the current state he was in. It wasn't water; It was warm tea. Now instead of being hot and sticky, he was very hot and, knowing that Armin put honey in his tea, Eren also knew that he would soon be even stickier. "God _damn it_ Armin! Why would you do that?!"

_'Because you're an insensitive jerk?'_ Armin thought that Eren could figure that one out on his own, though, and simply dropped the cup on the table and walked towards the back door. "Maybe you should take a nice long bath while I'm gone, it'll help you calm down." Armin said over his shoulder before shoving his feet into his boots and leaving, letting the door hang open slightly.

Unhappy birthdays were definitely going to stick as a recurring theme in Armin's life, and sadly, it looked as if the seventeenth time wouldn't be very different from the rest. Perhaps the day could still be salvaged, though. If Mikasa was back by the time Armin got back home, that was.

Being so gracefully honored with the task of collecting more firewood was a hassle for Armin since he couldn't use any of his magic to make it more simple. Nature had no reason to be kind to Armin today, what with it being autumn, the sun had begun to set not too long after Armin had made it into the forest.

It was getting colder, and it was getting dark. Walking through the woods with a big metal wagon was not fun, nor was it easy, and it would only get tougher the more he filled it with wood. Armin dug through so many rotten or soaked logs and sticks before finding even a few good, dry pieces of wood to collect.

The wagon wasn't even half way filled, and Armin didn't want to get lost in the woods all because of some sticks. Armin spotted a reasonably sized log in the darkness, and hurried over with his lamp to inspect it. _'Please be good!'_

Armin picked up the log, and it felt dry enough. When he turned it over, however, it was infested with insects. "Shit!" Armin muttered as he threw the log down in anger. Rotten, wet, or the home to plenty of bugs that were making the wood's innards their home. _'At this rate we'd be better off burning leaves.'_

Armin tried to stay calm, leaning against a tree trunk and closing his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts. _'Why'd he send me to get the wood? We should have just settled for burning some chair legs or something....'_ He thought with despair, wondering what kind of anger he'd be met with if he returned with such little wood. And if Mikasa hadn't come back yet, it'd only be worse.

If Armin had to stay out for another three hours, he would. It's not like he'd freeze to death, and he had enough oil. It just meant he'd have wasted a good portion of his birthday, but it was better than the alternative of Eren being disappointed and irritated when he got back.

So he pressed onward, dragging the wagon through the woods and inspecting practically every piece of wood he could see. The easier he could see the air pushing out from his nose, though, the more he realized how cold it was really getting.

_'Maybe I should go back?'_ He was uncertain, knowing that there was a consequence no matter what choice he made. If he stayed out _too_ late, Eren and Mikasa would get worried. If he came back with so little wood? Eren and Mikasa would be having a very cold night and maybe not even dinner, depending on their financial situation.

It was only when Armin came across the sound of the huge, gaping river that was the boarder between his country and another, that he knew it was time to go back. It was roaring incredibly loud for how far off Armin knew it was. It was one of the only rivers around the area that rarely froze in the winter.

_'I'm definitely not finding any dry wood here.'_ Armin reasoned with himself, sighing as he started to turn around and walk back in the direction of home. _'Maybe I should learn how to fish, that'd be more profitable at least.'_

With so few skills outside of his magical abilities, Armin could never really do much on the farm to contribute to the household funds. Mikasa was a decent hunter, and Eren was a decent farmer, but Armin wasn't exactly a decent _anything._

Just when things were going swell, Armin dragged the wagon down a small hill, only for the handle to break off completely right as it went over a bump. The wagon, now free of Armin's control, rapidly rolled down the rest of the way and toppled over when it hit a rock at the bottom.

"No!" Armin gasp and ran after it, handle still in tow, praying that there wasn't any mud or a puddle at the bottom.

Luck seemed to be in his favor for a moment, with the all of the wood still being just as dry as they were when he originally collected them. "Fucking Hell...." Armin sighed with both annoyance and relief as he turned the wagon back over and began filling it back up again. Although now, he had a new problem.

The wagon was already heavy enough, and now the handle was broken. He couldn't push or carry the wagon all the way back home, and what would he could carry in his arms was _not_ going to be enough. _'I can't just leave it here! What am I supposed to do?'_ Armin was starting to panic, but breathed in and out for a few minutes, and decided what he was going to do.

_'Eren would kill me if he saw, but he won't. Right?'_ Armin had already convinced himself, and he threw the rusty metal handle of the wagon right on top of the wood. Beginning to walk away, with just the sheer thoughts in his mind, he set the wagon in motion to follow him. It was magic, and it was something so many people had been killed over from a nasty war that had started nearly a decade ago.

But, it had been over for a while, he was in the middle of nowhere, and it was dark. No one would see what Armin was doing, no one could prove it if they did see, and who would care if they could? They were all things that Armin hadn't really thought about thoroughly, but they were always things that Armin had believed, even when the war was still going on.  
  
  
It seemed that luck didn't care _that_ much for Armin though, because when he was making his way up the hill towards the farmhouse again, all he was met with was shouting. " **Stop!** What the Hell are you doing?!" Eren was angry, and it was obvious that he knew what Armin was doing.

Armin ceased the use of his magic only when he had gotten the wagon up to the top of the hill. _'He already knows, why should I stop and push this stupid wagon up the hill when I know he's going to yell anyway?'_

"Well!? What do you think you're doing, Armin?! Using--" Eren clenched his fists before quieting his shouts down to a violent whisper, "Using _magic_ like it's nothing? We just talked about this, in the morning!"

Though he wasn't usually on the defensive when it came to his magic, Armin was fed up and only fought back, "Yes, and what's your point? No one saw! No one lives this far out besides us and the handle of the wagon broke off! What else did you expect me to do? Pick the whole thing up and just waltz back here like _it's_ nothing?"

Eren glanced at the wagon for a moment to see if Armin's words were true. Not that he thought Armin was really lying, he just wanted Armin to be wrong so that he'd have the excuse to be angrier.

"That's _not_ the point here, Armin, you know that! Have you forgotten the fact that the majority of the people in the world either want to _kill_ you or _experiment_ on you? Do you not care how much danger you're putting yourself in?!" Eren had raised his voice, but not to the shouting level it had been at beforehand.

Armin wasn't having any of it, though, "We moved all the way here so we'd be safe! If this place isn't safe then what _is_ , Eren?! This, it's, it's a _part of what I am_ , you can't just have me suppress and ignore it all the time when I'm useless otherwise."

Eren argued back, as he usually did when this argument came up, "You shouldn't care if it's part of 'who you are'! It's killing you! It's going to _get_ you killed! And y-you're not useless, Armin, and who the Hell cares if you are?! Basically everyone in the world would sell you out for a slice of pie, you don't need to be useful to them!"

"I can take care of myself, I'm smart you know. I don't just mindlessly rush into things like you do! And when I'm not alone I have you _and_ Mikasa, I'm _safe_ , just _stop it!_ " Armin hated when Eren yelled at him like this, yet treated him like a helpless baby at the same time.

"Exactly!" Eren shouted, "Exactly, Armin! And what about me and Mikasa, huh?! What happens when you're not here, and someone comes looking for you? If you don't care about how much danger you put yourself in, what about if _we_ die because we had to protect _you!_?"

That was the last straw for Armin, that was it. He could feel his eyes get wet, but he wiped his eyes quickly and swallowed, refusing to let himself cry over this in front of Eren. "I... I **_never asked_** for you two to do this! I... I _don't care_!"

Having heard all the arguing, Mikasa ran outside the house, "What are you two doing? Get in the house already, it's freezing out here."

They heard, but neither Eren or Armin were listening. Eren was infuriated by what Armin had just said. "You _don't care_...? You _don't care?!_ How selfish are you?! You're going to put all our lives in danger just so you can 'be who you are' and you don't even _care?!_ "

Armin squeezed his eyes closed and inhaled, then exhaled to try to relax himself. He opened his eyes again, but the tears weren't holding up. "Selfish? Yeah, okay Eren, I'm selfish. The only damn reason I do anything is for you two! You think I want this? You think I like this _awful_ life? You two started protecting me, putting your lives on the line for me, and I never wanted you to! If you don't want me to use magic, if you don't want me being what I was born as, then _leave_! It's as simple as that! Because I **never** wanted you two to do this in the first place!"

Armin was heaving now, biting his lip to prevent himself from choking on the air he was breathing. Trying to keep his eyes open when his vision was so clouded with hot tears. Trying so, so hard to keep his arms, his legs, practically his whole entire body from shaking.

Before Eren could make any more stupid remarks blinded by his anger, Mikasa ran past Eren and attempted to pull Armin into a hug. Armin refused the offer and pushed Mikasa away before walking as fast as he could into the house. He needed a good and long soak in the tub. _'I don't need their damn hugs.'_

Meanwhile, a very worried Mikasa and a still angry-as-ever Eren were outside in the cold. Mikasa turned to face Eren, and immediately punched him square in the jaw. "You always do this; What the Hell happened today? What did he do to incite you incredibly _stupid_ , uncontrollable and equally insensitive anger, today? And of all days, his birthday!"

Eren, who was nearly knocked off balance, held his face in pain, "Fff-... _Damn it_ Mikasa, he's not your son, stop beating the Hell out of me every time I make him upset! He's going to get himself killed, or _us_ killed, or all of us killed! If I can't talk some sense into him then _you_ do it!"

Mikasa wanted to roll her eyes and slap him, and had this been a less serious issue, she would have. But for the time being, Armin was the priority, as he usually was. "Go put the wood away and stay away from Armin for the rest of the night. I'm going to... talk to him."

Eren stomped over to the broken wagon and started to push it towards the storage shed, but looked over his shoulder to get the last word in, "Talk some _sense_ into him, Mikasa." But Mikasa was already nearing the front door by the time he finished talking.

Armin's seventeenth birthday was no longer, by any means, salvageable.

 

 

 


End file.
